


A Witch's Work is Never Done

by StarOfTheCountyDown



Series: A Witch's Work is Never Done [1]
Category: American Horror Story, Terrifier (2018)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:48:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27892561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarOfTheCountyDown/pseuds/StarOfTheCountyDown
Summary: (AHS Coven/Freak Show meets Terrifier, because why not?)This follows the witches of Miss Robicheaux's Academy, as well as the antics of several clowns, and details their paths frequently crossing.
Series: A Witch's Work is Never Done [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2042443





	1. Amity Mast, Witch

Chapter One: Amity Mast, Witch 

(for this chapter, listen to "Garden Valley" by Cara Dillon) 

**Amity's POV**

_I never noticed anything unusual about myself. I never realized that the others in my community thought I was odd. They never could place what they thought was wrong with me, and therefore were never able to find a reason to shun me. They had a feeling about me, I could tell that much. Community members weren't allowed to stand out, but somehow I always did. I never meant to, of course. I just did my best in everything I did. What that translated into, though, was accidentally outshining others... and, on occasion, doing something completely out of the ordinary._

_I think it usually happened when I was singing. We sang a lot in the community, while we did work in the house or in our fields. It was like I made things happen when I sang. Most of the time it was small things, like the animals would follow me around, even wild ones._

"Like you were a Disney princess?" the girl with the golden headband (Mallory? I was still learning names) asked and smiled at me. 

"I... I don't know what that is," I admitted, a little sheepishly. 

The tiny one, Madison - I remembered her, she had such an attitude - blew out a puff of smoke from her cigarette and turned to look at Mallory. "She's Amish, bitch. We should be lucky she even knew enough to come here in the first place. If something hadn't happened, she would probably be human bacon like Misty down there." 

Misty, the witch with all the blonde curly hair, spoke with a drawl. "Don't make me kick your ass again, Madison." 

"Would both of you stop?" Zoe chastised the two bickering girls. 

"How _did_ you find out about us?" Miss Cordelia, the witch in the center of this panel - and the Supreme, whatever that meant - inquired. "I thought the Amish people didn't use technology, and therefore would have no idea of a place like this." 

"Well, it was a combination of two things," I explained. "Joyce Stoltzfus and Rumspringa." 

_One day they found me singing to the plants; you know, to help them grow. I was surrounded by chickens and goats, and something happened that had never happened before. Not only were the plants visibly growing and even looking healthier by the minute, but the animals around me started... I don't know, it was almost like they were dancing._

_When the others found me, they panicked. I remember the look of horror on their faces as they watched me. I couldn't understand it - I wasn't doing anything wrong, I didn't know why they were so upset. Joyce was the one to explain it to me._

_"They're saying you're an unholy witch, Amity," she whispered to me after eavesdropping on a meeting of important community members. "They're trying to decide what to do about it!"_

_Joyce Stoltzfus was my best friend for as long as I could remember. She offered to leave her bedroom window open for me that night so I could sneak in and spend the night with her, since she knew I was afraid, but I told her I would be fine._

_I wasn't fine._

"My parents snuck into my room that night and bludgeoned me with a hammer. I remember my mother scowling at me and calling me a foul witch, and my father looking at me with the gravest disappointment while he hammered my head." 

"Something similar happened to me," Mallory reached out and took my hand across the table. "My parents saw me hovering over my bed and thought I was doing something evil, but I didn't even realize I was doing it." 

Misty grabbed my other hand. "I had the same problem," she told me. "My congregation saw me restore life to a bird. They burned me at the stake that same night." 

I squeezed both girls' hands. "Needless to say, my parents killed me with that hammer." 

"No shit," I heard Madison grumble. 

Coco, the blonde girl who so far hadn't spoke, chimed in with what I'm sure was meant to be sympathy. "God," she sighed. "I think I have the only family who really encourages being a witch. Honestly, I'm thinking of asking them if they'll honorarily adopt the rest of you." 

Madison rolled her eyes. 

"Most people don't know how to react to a witch in the family," Cordelia explained calmly. "As a result, they act out of fear of the unknown. Many of our girls here have similar stories to yours." 

Zoe furrowed her brow. "If your parents killed you, how are you here now? Do you have the power of resurgence, like Misty? Or did someone else bring you back?" 

I shrugged. This was all so new to me. "I must have the power of resurgence," I guessed. "I wasn't quite dead when my parents dragged my body into the garden, where I had been singing that morning. I died as we entered through the gate. They must have buried me there, because the next thing I remember is emerging from the soil, feeling revived despite everything that had happened the night before." 

Misty gripped my hand tighter. "You put so much love into your garden that it enhanced its natural healing and life-giving properties!" she exclaimed. "Just like with my own garden and my swamp mud!" 

_When I woke up, I wasn't sure how long I had been buried. I just got up and went immediately to find Joyce. I caught a bunch of terrified and confused looks from people I passed along the way. I guess they all knew what my parents had done to me, or had some idea of it. Once I found Joyce, though, she had no idea. When I asked her how long I had been gone, she looked completely bewildered. I had to explain to her what happened._

_"We have to get you out of Amish country right now," was all she said. When I asked her how, she reminded me about Rumspringa - the time when Amish young adults go experience the world and decide whether or not to return to Amish life. The timing was perfect._

"Joyce had a friend on the outside, I still don't know how she met him, but he told her about the Robicheaux Academy back when you first went public," I explained. "She reached out to him, and that very day I left in his car. I didn't even pack anything." 

Cordelia clasped her hands and stared at me intently. "You, Amity Mast, are a survivor. You have reached the haven of the coven against all odds, and you are welcome here. You have sisters and a community again, one that won't shun you." 

At that moment, the front door to my left opened and an African American girl walked in. "I'm back from L.A., what'd I miss?" she asked. 

Madison answered her while putting out her cigarette. "Our new sister witch is a self-resurrecting ex-Amish Disney princess. Amity, meet Queenie." 

I laughed nervously. "I still don't know what a Disney princess is...." 

Coco stood up and pranced over to my side. "Well, then it's time you learned!" she declared. "We're going to show you every Disney princess movie we can think of in between lessons. It's going to be so much fun!" 

"And," Queenie interjected. "Since we're in New Orleans, what better movie to start off a Disney princess education than _The Princess and the Frog_?" 

Before I knew it, I was surrounded by my fellow sister witches, all hugging me and offering to let me borrow their clothes until I got some of my own, some even outright volunteering to give me theirs. I couldn't keep track of what everyone was saying, but I knew I was finally home.


	2. Mute, Merry, and Murderous

Chapter Two: Mute, Merry, and Murderous 

(for this chapter, listen to "The Elephant Man Theme" by John Morris) 

**Twisty's POV**

At first, I didn't understand. Edward Mordrake was there. The Long Man was there. The Dwarf was there. Everyone was there, just like always. Mordrake was leading us through the mists. Then, it was as if I was being pulled away, like invisible arms were pulling me this way and that. I didn't know what was happening to me or why. 

Suddenly I found myself face-down on wet asphalt, back in my body. I looked up and saw another clown kneeling beside me, dressed in white and black. Even his face paint was white and black, right down to the tip of his pointy nose. Next to him was a circle of candles and strange symbols, and what looked like a drawing of me. I thought I smelled blood, too. It looked like there was some splattered on his clown uniform. 

I tried to open my mouth to speak to the other clown, but then I realized that once again I did not have a mouth. I was back in my body, just the way it had been when Edward Mordrake killed me. I did not have my jaw. The other clown grinned, squinting his eyes. 

I gurgled, desperately trying to speak, but I couldn't say anything clearly. Then I remembered what Edward Mordrake told me the night he killed me, when he wanted to know my story: _focus your mind, and I will understand you_. I took a deep breath, focused on what I wanted to say, and looked at the other clown. 

_Why?_ I asked him. _Why have you brought me back? Why couldn't you at least have given me back my jaw, so I could talk?_

The other clown kept grinning, and reached out to touch my forehead. I saw him, slashing and slicing and beating and killing... all in silence. The visions went away, and I looked back at this clown. He couldn't talk either! Seeing that I knew he had no voice, he smiled and shrugged. He touched my forehead again, but this time no visions came. Instead, I just understood. 

He knew what I had done, how I had killed to remain a good clown. He wanted a comrade, a partner. He wanted a fellow clown just like him: mute, merry, and murderous. He stood up to his full height and held out his hand. I took it, and he helped me up to my feet. His hands were gloved and filthy, just like mine. He pulled a large black trash bag from the shadows and opened it, letting me peer in. Inside was everything we would need to continue being clowns: horns, machetes, trick flowers, balls and bowling pins for juggling, hacksaws, plenty of knives, and even a gun or two. 

_What is your name?_ I asked him. 

The other clown pointed at the damp brick wall beside us, where I saw a name written in what looked like blood: _Art_. Close beside it, above the drawing of me, was another word, what must be my name: _Twisty_.


End file.
